


700

by Feelforfaith



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anthropomorphism - Freeform, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 13:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelforfaith/pseuds/Feelforfaith
Summary: The puck loves number 19, loves him with its whole little black puck heart.The tape of number 19's stick is soft and welcoming, and it grips the puck with just enough friction to make things fun.It's love at first touch.
Relationships: Nicklas Backstrom/Alexander Ovechkin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 38





	700

**Author's Note:**

> So, it didn't happen this way, but I wish it had. To quote Adam Savage, "I reject your reality and substitute my own."

The puck loves number 19, loves him with its whole little black puck heart. 

The tape of number 19's stick is soft and welcoming, and it grips the puck with just enough friction to make things fun.

It's love at first touch. 

Every time the puck returns to number 19, it's with a bounce in its slide—_Hello again, I missed you!_—but it's the buzz of energy around number 8 that makes everything on the playground vibrate with excitement. The puck wants to stay with number 19, but it knows that's not what number 19 wants.

And there's nothing the puck wouldn't do for number 19. That's why every time number 19 sends it to number 8, the puck makes an effort to get a little more speed, hop a little higher over the obstacles to make sure it gets to number 8.

It skitters left and right, skips around the cold surface of the playground, slides along, and then—_wheeeeee!—_number 8 sends it sailing straight past the big, scary-looking number standing in the way, and there are red lights and roaring noise!

The puck is sore from the heavy whack from number 8, but none of it matters because the puck can feel waves of delight and happiness coming off number 19 as all the other numbers surround number 8, and they are laughing and hugging him. The puck loves the joyful chaos! And the puck loves number 19!

That's the last thing the puck remembers before it's scooped up and put into a cozy, dark place that smells a little like number 8 and a lot like number 19. 

Later, it wakes up in the hands of number 8.

"700," number 8 says to number 19 and rubs the puck's side with his thumb.

Which feels ... nice?

But then number 8 touches the puck with his mouth, and the puck doesn't like that. At all. _Gross!_

"Couldn't have done it without you," number 8 says.

The puck watches, worried, as number 8 rolls on top of number 19. He touches number 19's mouth with his mouth, and the puck is sure that number 19 thinks it's gross, too, because he makes a weird sound, and— 

—_whoops!_

The puck slips out of number 8's fingers, but fortunately, it lands on the bed next to number 19, who is now making even stranger noises under number 8.

The puck knows what number 8 is doing. The puck has seen numbers pushing each other on the playground, and it always looks like it hurts. The puck winces. 

Number 8 presses down his whole body against number 19, and number 19 sounds like he is in pain and can't breathe. 

_Somebody, help!? _

There are no striped numbers here to blow a whistle and bring the order back.

Number 19 makes another strange sound when number 8 tries to squash him. 

_Don't hurt him, you brute!_

The puck is ready to roll, to jump, to do anything to protect number 19, when number 19 lifts his arms, but instead of pushing number 8 away, number 19 ... pulls number 8 closer? And holds number 8's head to his head? And does that thing with their mouths again? 

Number 8 and number 19 have a lot less packaging around them now than they had on the playground. A lot less. Like ... none at all?

"What do you want, baby?" number 8 says.

Number 19 smiles, and what a smile it is. The puck would be happy just to sit here and be smiled at by number 19 until the end of the world. Except that number 19 is smiling at number 8, and not at the puck, which hurts a little. 

"195 more?" number 19 says.

Number 8 laughs. "Deal. But this first maybe, yeah?" number 8 moves lower, lower, and he puts his mouth on ... oh.

_Oh_. 

Number 19 gasps.

The puck's circumference tingles unexpectedly.

"Yeah," number 19 says, breathlessly.

Number 8 doesn't say anything because number 8's mouth is busy.

"You are the greatest ..." Number 19's fingers brush the puck when they reach down to tangle in number 8's hair. 

The puck blushes hard and averts its little black puck eyes.


End file.
